Stuart MacBride - Close to the Bone

He drooped even further. ‘Sorry, Guv.’

‘Don’t worry, you did the right thing. No one in or out.’ Then Logan followed Steel and Chalmers over to the patrol car.

The passenger door was open, a police officer sitting sideways in the seat with his feet in the gutter, head between his knees. He’d stripped off his stab-proof vest and dumped it on the driver’s seat.

Steel poked him on the shoulder. ‘You the First Attending Officer? ’

He nodded, then blew out a long shuddering breath.

‘No’ what you expect, is it? Hacked-up body on a nice Monday evening.’

Constable Duncan’s voice came out muffled from way down there. ‘It was. . like a horror film. .’

A young couple passed on the pavement opposite, giggling and murmuring, heads together, eating chips from rectangular cardboard boxes. The scent of batter and hot vinegar coiled out around them. The girl peered into the patrol car. ‘You doing someone? ’

Logan nodded at the house with its half-arsed barrier of blue-and-white tape. ‘You know who lives there? ’

Her boyfriend jammed in another handful of chips. ‘For sale, isn’t it? ’

As if the estate agent’s sign in the lawn wasn’t enough of a clue.

‘ Darren .’ She smacked him on the shoulder, leaving greasy fingerprints on his AFC tracksuit top. ‘Been empty for ages. Think they went to Dubai or somewhere, you know, for work and that? ’

Steel straightened herself up. ‘You pair know it’s an offence to withhold evidence or lie to a police officer, right? So you’d better think really carefully before answering. .’ She squinted at the pair of them. Squared her shoulders. ‘Where’d you get those chips? ’

Steel counted out three grubby tenners into Chalmers’s palm. ‘Three fish suppers, one with pickled onion, a thing of mushy peas, and some tins of Irn-Bru.’ She looked down at the constable, still sitting in the passenger seat with his head between his knees. ‘You want some chips, Duncan? ’ No answer. ‘Get him one too.’

Chalmers pocketed the cash. ‘Ma’am.’

‘And get something for Rennie. Nothing fancy — mock chop or something — don’t want him getting ideas above his station.’

She brought her chin up. ‘Ma’am.’

‘Aye, and no spitting in it either.’ Steel made shooing motions. ‘Well, go on then.’

Chalmers puckered her lips for a moment, as if she was about to say something, then turned and marched off in the direction of the chip shop, back straight, arms swinging at her sides. Left, right, left, right, left, right. .

Steel settled her bum down on a garden wall and puffed at her fake fag. ‘Right, sunshine, time for you to sing for your supper. What happened? ’

PC Duncan took a deep breath, then sat up. His face was pale and shiny, like the belly of a frog, greeny-purple bags under his eyes. ‘I’ve never. .’ He swallowed. ‘I mean, they make you go to a post mortem, but. .’

‘Your first real body? ’

‘The smell . .’

Logan flipped open his notebook. ‘When did you get the call? ’

‘I was out looking for a missing Renault Clio. House has been vacant for about eight months, local estate agent’s handling the sale. Neighbours phoned the station complaining about the smell coming from the place.’ He shuddered. ‘Got there and there’s no sign of forced entry, so I go down the estate agent’s and get the key, come back and. .’ He puffed out his cheeks. ‘He was in the kitchen.’

‘Victim? ’

‘Male, IC-one. . maybe. Difficult to tell. . Face all battered, cuts and stab marks over his body.’ PC Duncan’s head went back between his knees. ‘Oh God. .’

Steel examined the end of her pretend cigarette. ‘Tortured? ’

‘They staked him out on the lino. There’s blood everywhere: on the floor, on the walls. And the flies. . God, the place is black with them.’

Logan wrote it down. ‘What about the neighbours? ’

Duncan raised his greasy face. ‘Mr and Mrs Morris, they’re in their eighties. He’s in a wheelchair. Don’t think they did it.’

Steel blew a raspberry. ‘He means did they see anything, you divot.’

‘They keep themselves to themselves.’

‘Pfff. .’ She stood, stretched, then leaned on the roof of the patrol car. ‘Someone up there sodding hates me. We’ve no’ had anything like this for what, two, three years? And soon as I’m in charge of CID, bang: necklacing, skeletons, and some poor sod tortured to death. Could they no’ have waited till Finnie gets back? ’

Logan sooked the salt and grease from his fingertips, then stuffed the cardboard box back in the plastic bag it came in. ‘Fiscal’s here.’

Steel crunched through a bit of batter. ‘How can they no’ wrap fish and chips in paper any more? Used to love that — the smell of hot fat and sharp vinegar and warm newsprint. That’s your golden days of childhood right there.’

The Procurator Fiscal’s Mercedes purred to a halt behind a grubby Transit van with ‘MANKY MYSTERY MACHINE’ finger-painted into the grime.

‘At least it’s no’ in that polystyrene rubbish. Whoever invented that needs buggering with a hedgehog.’

The passenger door swung open and the Fiscal climbed out, looked around. Frowned. Then marched across the street to Logan’s battered Fiat Punto, heels clicking on the tarmac. ‘You’re eating chips ? ’

Steel dipped a chunk of fish into the tub of snotter-green peas. ‘Would’ve got you some, but you weren’t here.’

The Fiscal’s eyes narrowed, mouth pinched. ‘Have you any idea what will happen when the press turn up and find you lot mooching around eating chips? ’

‘Thought it would be classier than a kebab.’

‘Have you been drinking ? ’ The Fiscal thumped the flat of her hand on the roof of Logan’s car. ‘For goodness’ sake, Roberta, think about the impression you’re making!’

‘I’m no’ the one shouting and banging things, am I? ’

Rennie emerged from the front door of the house and waved at them. ‘Ma’am? DI Leith says he’s ready whenever you are.’

‘Go home , Roberta.’

Steel popped a chip into her mouth and chewed.

‘I mean it, Roberta!’

A shrug. ‘Sod all going on here anyway.’ She closed the lid on her cardboard box and passed it to Logan. ‘Laz, fire up the Crapmobile, the pub beckons.’

‘And never turn up half-cut to one of my crime scenes again.’ The Procurator Fiscal turned and clacked towards the house. ‘Briefing: tomorrow morning, nine sharp.’

Steel licked the peas from her fingers, then stuck two of them up at her departing back.

Rennie grimaced at them, then lifted up the line of blue-and-white ‘POLICE’ tape so the Fiscal could duck under it.

‘Course you know what this is, don’t you? ’ Steel picked something out from between her teeth. ‘Pent-up sexual frustration. PF sees me and gets all excited in her barbed-wire panties.’

‘Am I dropping you back at the pub or not? ’ Logan got in behind the wheel. ‘Should’ve been at the hospital ages ago.’

‘Mind you, bet she goes like a Rampant Rabbit wired up to the mains. I could-’

‘Do you want me to drive off and leave you here? ’

‘Touchy.’ She cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘CHALMERS, ARSE IN GEAR: WE’RE GOING!’

The DS appeared from behind a nearby hedge. ‘Sorry, Guv, I was. . looking for a bin. To put the chip boxes in? ’

Steel opened the passenger door, then hauled the seat forward and hooked a thumb at Chalmers. ‘In the back.’ As soon as she was inside, Steel clunked the seat into place again. ‘Pretty convenient you went off a-Wombling the minute the PF turned up, isn’t it? ’